October 9, 1945
John Lennon was already going down a rocky road by the age of five. He still lived with his mother at this point in his life, but not for long. His father would soon come to try and take to New Zealand, and John would nearly go with him, if it weren't for his mother's emotional breakdown. John was at school this day in 1945, at recess playing football with his mates. John was still quite innocent at this age, his attitude would develop later.
"Pass it to me, John!" His friend, Pete, called to him.
John mustered up all of his strength and kicked his stubby leg forward to kick the football in the direction of his friend. He kicked the ball as hard as he could and it soared through the air and landed directly in front of Pete Shotton. Pete smiled and ran towards the net, where their other friend, Ivan Vaughan, was playing goalkeeper. Pete ran as fast as his four-year-old legs would take him, and kicked the ball hard into the net past Ivan's head.
"Whoa!" Ivan cried, looking over his shoulder in astonishment at how quickly the football soared past him, "That was a great kick, Pete, ever thought of trying out for the team?"
Pete shook his head, his blond curls falling into his eyes, "No."
"You should, you're great," Ivan smiled, supportive of his friend.
Pete smiled and blushed a light shade of pink at his friends comment before turning to John, who was looking down at his feet and kicking at a few rocks on the ground.
"John?" Pete called out to his friend, who seemed distant.
"Huh?" John jerked his head up and looked at his friend, his small arms behind his back as he continued to kick at the ground.
"Are you alright? You seem sad," Pete said, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
"Oh, yeah. I'm okay," John fibbed, "It's just… My Dad hasn't been home in a while, and it's my birthday and all that, ya' know?"
"Yeah, I understand. My Dad doesn't seem to care that I'm even around sometimes," Pete said, shrugging his little shoulders.
"I'm five now and he's not around to see me grow. Five's a big age, innit?" John asked, looking around at his friends.
They both nodded and walked closer to him, feeling as if they needed to say something to make him feel better.
"Don't worry, John, at least he actually care's about you," Pete said, "He just has to work. That's all."
"Yeah, I'm sure he'll be back soon to see you," Ivan assured the small boy.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. But why can't he at least come home for my birthday?" John questioned curiously. At this age, he had no idea why his father couldn't leave from his deployment to come see him, even for his birthday.
"I don't know, maybe he's really, really, really, busy," Pete shrugged, putting his arms behind his back and swaying from side to side.
"He has to be really busy if he can't come home today," John sighed sadly, looking down at his feet.
He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't, not in front of his friends. Maybe his Mum would care, she was always there for him when he was sad.
"I'm going back inside," John said suddenly, "See you guys later."
After school, John walked home, by himself, like he did everyday. It seemed scary at first, but he got used to it after a while. He usually skipped along the sidewalk, or avoided the cracks in it, he didn't want to break his mother's back, after all.
He was hoping his mother would have some words of wisdom for him, a reassuring tale about his father's absence. There had to be a logical explanation for this, his father wouldn't just NOT show up for his birthday, that was just wrong.
John sighed sadly as he turned and walked up his driveway and up onto the front porch. He grabbed the cool doorknob and twisted it hard. He pushed the door open and walked inside the foyer.
"Mum, I'm home!" He called out, but nobody answered. That was weird, she was always here to greet him when he walked in, "Mum?" He called again, but still, there was no answer.
He walked down the hall and looked into the living room, where she was usually playing piano or banjo, but she wasn't there either. John took his bag off his shoulders and dropped it onto the floor as he continued searching the house for his mother.
"Mum?" He called once more as he started towards the kitchen. She had to be in the kitchen. He thought to himself.
He stepped into the kitchen and was met with a huge chorus of 'surprise'. His whole family was in here. His cousin Stanley, his Aunt Mimi, and Uncle George, and of course, his mother.
John beamed an excited, happy smile and leaped into his mother's arms, "Mum!" John cried as he wrapped his arms around her neck as she knelt down to his height to hug him.
"Happy birthday, son," She smiled, rubbing her young son's back.
"Thanks Mum, you're the best!" John said happily, making his mouther chuckle in the upmost happiness, and twinge of sadness.
She was happy that John was happy, but she was also a little sad that he was growing up so fast. She felt her eyes sting with tears as she watched her young son hug each and every one of his family members. He was a sweet kid, she hopes he'll always be like this. But what she didn't know, was that in the next year, her sweet son John, would go through an event that would leave him emotionally scarred forever.
